Foreign Object
by tapeandblades
Summary: One month and four days. One month and four days since the day Merlin disappeared. Arthur had known Merlin wasn't the only lone man to be snatched from the streets – but all the other boys and young men who had been taken were irrelevant, because Merlin didn't come home that night. And when he is, strangely, returned to Arthur almost physically unharmed... it's too good to be true.
1. Chapter One

**Foreign Object - Chapter One**

"Mr. Pendragon, this is Officer Thompson. Sorry to call at such a late hour."

Arthur's breath hitched. He glanced at the clock, oblivious to the time – he had been so painfully awake nevertheless – and it blinked back in an offensive bright blue. 3:42 AM. He slapped his lips together drily, eyes wide. There were only two reasons the police would call him at this time, and Arthur was too cowardly to find out which of them it was. Shifting his fingers on the phone, he closed his eyes, breathing heavily, waiting for the next words to fall from the officer's uncaring, swollen mouth.

"We were told to inform you at the earliest opportunity that both the perpetrator of the crime and all the victims have been found. Merlin has been admitted to St. Avalons and you are his next of kin."

Arthur barely had a moment to breathe before he had flung himself from their house, phone still jabbering with formalities, and found himself hurtling to the hospital at a morally questionable speed.

But when he arrived, he wasn't the only one searching for a returned loved one.

Arthur had known Merlin wasn't the only lone man to be snatched from the streets – he'd known the kidnapper was something of a serial offender, and considered a dangerous and elusive strategist. But all the other boys and young men who had been taken were irrelevant, because Merlin didn't come home that night, even though they were ordering fish and chips and Merlin _loved_ fish and chips. Arthur had licked the grease from his fingers, eyed the extra serving, and worried. Merlin was the laziest arse he'd ever met, and there was no way he'd work late on takeaway night. So Arthur had called Gwaine, and Lance, and Morgana and every other living soul that Merlin and Arthur knew mutually, and then he'd slipped on his brown leather jacket and tracked down every one of Merlin's boltholes, and horrifyingly, found the world he knew to be starkly Merlin-less.

The next day, he hurriedly filed the missing person's report.

He'd waited a month and four days. A month and four days without Merlin's endless nattering, contagious smiles and lackadaisical habits. A month and four days without him to wake up to every morning, without that inexplicable mop of hair to card his fingers through, without his snorts of laughter as Arthur tickled him from the bed – and it had been _agonising._ And to him, that empty hole he'd suddenly found in his life was the only thing he could recognise, the only thing he could comprehend – seeing all these people here, these mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers and friends, startled him to the extent that his eyes physically opened to something so much bigger, something far more complex and serious. This man had stolen over fifteen males from the streets, all between sixteen and thirty, and _no one knew why_.

"Sir?" Arthur jumped, spinning to see a young nurse watching him concernedly – she raised a hand to his arm, clipboard slotted beneath her shoulder. "Are you family of one of the victims?"

He cleared his throat, and nervously twisted his fingers together. "M-Merlin Emrys," he stuttered, voice hoarse from disuse and worry. "I'm Merlin's partner."

She smiled, nodding, and cast her gaze to her clipboard. "He's in room 146, a private ward. I can escort you there if you'd like?"

He nodded disjointedly, shuffling after her as she led the way. Every sound, smell, sight, he registered distantly, pervading his thoughts always a second too late, leaving him overwhelmed and confused. He'd continued so long in this state of blissful catatonia in order to avoid the grief that his mind had grown slow and sluggish. He blinked as they arrived before a white panelled door; wood slightly ajar already, and only just caught the gesture to step inside. Swallowing thickly, he pushed the handle forwards, squinting into the low light of the hospital room.

And then he saw him.

Suddenly his mind went into overdrive, whirring and exploding with images of cerulean eyes over sweet coffee mugs and chilly feet tangled under tartan bed sheets – his Merlin, pale-skinned and adorned with his lacklustre ebony hair, lay before him, locked peacefully in slumber. Arthur stumbled forward, collapsing into the chair by his bedside, and clinging to the stray hand on the bed like it might fall like sand between his fingers at any moment. His breathing halted, stuttered, started, and then he turned to the nurse in the doorway, alert to the point of ridiculousness.

"Will he be alright?"

She eyed the chart at the end of the bed, brow furrowed. "We've run all the routine tests, and everything has come back normal. Minor lacerations to the wrists and ankles, traces of anaesthetic in his system, but he is otherwise physically healthy. His mental state however, will take more time."

Arthur turned back to Merlin, heaving a sigh of relief. "He hasn't been awake yet?"

"Most of the patients admitted were semi-conscious and incoherent upon arrival, most likely due to the presence of drugs in their bloodstream, and after thorough examinations we sedated them to encourage recovery. He should wake in several hours." She smiled tightly, sympathy swimming in her gaze. "There's a small cafeteria on the first floor. The coffee is adequate should you be needing any."

Arthur nodded imperceptibly, hard pupils locked on his partners, jaw set with every emotion under the sun. The nurse left quietly, her offer of caffeinated relief still ringing pointlessly in his ears – pointlessly, because he didn't intend to leave his post until those blue eyes opened.

* * *

At 11:26 AM, Arthur was startled out of his stupor by a shifting of rough sheets and a gentle moan – his blonde head snapped to the pillows to see Merlin opening his mouth, eyes moving below their lids.

"Merlin?" Another soft sound left his partner's lips, and his lids parted a crack. There was a moment, just a moment of peaceful ignorance, and then clarity hit – Merlin's eyes shot open, and he writhed in the sheets, breathing harshly as his hands scratched helplessly in panic.

"No, no!" The young man threw himself upright, panting and squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, I want to go home!"

Arthur clung to his arms, placing himself in front of him only to have him flinch at the contact. "Merlin. Merlin! It's alright. It's me, Arthur. You're safe."

Merlin shuddered once, twice, and then slowly his eyelids lifted to reveal a pair of frightened, icy irises. "Arthur?" he whispered, and the blonde couldn't help the tears that spilt over – he'd waited so long to hear his name from those lips, waited so long to meet those eyes again.

"Yes," he said, nodding vigorously, loosening his grip on Merlin's forearms. "It's over. I'm here now. Everything will be okay."

Soon, a choked sob follows the silence, and Merlin's flung himself at Arthur, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and hair tickling the bottom of his chin. The older man embraced him tightly, running one hand soothingly through Merlin's darker, longer hair, hushing his shakes and cries of anguish. The man seemed only a boy in Arthur's strong arms, vulnerable and afraid. Soon his indistinguishable hiccups became mercurial, words bubbling from his lips – "Arthur, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I've just missed you so much –"

"You have nothing to apologise for," Arthur murmured against his head, pressing a kiss to the crown of it. "I'm just so happy you're back."

"Please don't let this be a dream Arthur, please –"

"It's real Merlin, I promise you."

Merlin heaved a breath shakily, pulling away with a small sniffle. "I had so many dreams," he said, voice quiet and melancholy. His eyes widened fearfully, and he clung desperately to Arthur's shirt. "He put me to sleep so many times, I never knew what was real Arthur, I never knew – but they were doing things to me, I could feel it even when I was sleeping and –" He whimpered, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Merlin?"

"I don't feel right," he whispered, and something in Arthur's stomach clenched. His gaze darted around the room, honing in on a call button.

"Do you need the nurse?" No response. Arthur stood, making his way to the wall. "I'm calling the nurse. It'll be okay Merlin, you'll be okay –"

"No!" he suddenly shouted, flinging his arms out and letting the tears fall with abandon. "You don't understand! I don't _know_ what's wrong Arthur, _I don't know_ –"

He enveloped him again, holding him securely to his chest. "Shh, love, shh." The name of endearment calmed him, and he sunk into Arthur's chest. "You're safe, we're safe Merlin."

Merlin sighed shakily, hands curling into his partner's. Ever so quietly, and ever so hopelessly, Merlin pressed his lips against Arthur's neck and repeated his wish from earlier. "I want to go home," he said, and they both lapsed into tearful silence.

* * *

The next morning, Merlin is released from hospital. Fingers shaking, breath stuttering, he was led from the automatic doors to Arthur's shining silver Volkswagen by none other than the man himself. The blonde allowed his lover to lean into him, untrusting of his own feet, and rubbed gentle, soothing circles into his shoulder. With everyone that passed, the younger man's eyes shone brighter with fear.

Arthur almost cried at Merlin's audible whimper when the passenger door snapped shut.

"Merlin," Arthur said, gently grasping his pale hand in his own. The brunette lifted two fingers to his lips, closing his eyes and trembling periodically. "Merlin –"

"C-can we just go ho-ome?" He turned towards the window, blinking. "P-people are staring –"

Arthur sighed, retracting his hand to place it firmly on the wheel. "Alright," he whispered, unwilling to deny Merlin anything at this stage. "I'm betting a morning hot chocolate made by yours truly sounds good, hmm?"

Merlin smiled weakly, sinking further into his blue scarf. "With cream and marshmallows?"

"With cream and marshmallows."

They drove in mostly silence, save for the quiet sniffles and sighs elicited from Merlin, and fifteen minutes later they're both settled in the living room, a tartan throw splayed haphazardly across their knees.

"Merlin," Arthur began, rubbing the hem of his shirt nervously; but before he could get any further, the brunette shook his head, two fingers once again pressed desperately to his lips. "Just – please – are you okay?" Another slight shake of his head and a pleading look is all it took for Arthur to leap of the couch, giving his lover some space.

Quietly, he boiled some milk over the stove. For the last month and four days, he had only prayed with every fibre of his being that Merlin be returned to him alive, nothing else – he had not prepared himself for the possibility that Merlin be returned physically, but lost entirely in every other way. That was not the Merlin Emrys he knew – that terrified, speechless ghost sitting on the sofa next door was a stranger, not the clumsy, talkative man he had grown so fond of. Stirring Moroccan cocoa powder into the hot milk, Arthur couldn't help the tears that trailed they're way down his cheeks. He knew, observant bastard that he was, Merlin would be able to tell he'd been crying with just one look, but for one moment, he simply didn't care. He'd not been the strong Arthur Pendragon everyone knew for the last month and four days – why should now be any different?

He placed a mug of hot chocolate on the table next to him, and carefully handed the second one over to Merlin, who clasped it in two hands and sighed contentedly at the heat. Turning briefly, he studied Arthur's expression, eyes haunted but loving. Slowly, he reached out to swipe at a sticky patch on the blonde's cheek where anguish had made its mark.

"I'm sorry Arthur," he whispered, balancing his mug on one of his knees. "I–It was horrible, and, and I don't feel right –"

"No no love, it's not your fault. I just wish I knew what to do –"

"Everything feels all wrong inside of me –"

"I know I know, I'm here love –"

"You don't understand," Merlin choked, lip trembling freely, "I don't feel wrong because, because I'm traumatised. Something's wrong, Arthur, they stuck so many needles in me and some of those needles _hurt,_ and they kept _touching me_ –"

He hiccupped, breaking off into stuttering sobs, and Arthur took the mug from his hands and set it on the coffee table. He drew Merlin into his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, despair, and worry burst through him – they had touched his Merlin, they had _violated him_ –

"A–Arthur, please, you have to tell the doctor's to fix it. They've put something inside of me, I can _feel it_ –"

"Merlin, they ran all the routine tests. Nothing was wrong."

The younger man placed his head in his hands, shuddering violently over the blanket. "I–I don't," he muffled another cry in the fabric. " _I don't feel right_."

Arthur carded his fingers through Merlin's hair, massaging gently and shushing quietly in his ear. "It's okay. We'll figure it out." The brunette looked up at him through his hands. "Okay? I won't let anything hurt you ever again. I _promise_ , we'll get it fixed." Merlin nodded, sighing heavily and tentatively leaning back on the cushions. Arthur took the mug back into his hands and offered it to his partner. "Here. It will make you feel better."

Nodding, Merlin clutched the mug and brought it to his parted lips. Arthur watched as he drank deeply, closing his eyes, and then pulled back. When those blue eyes met his next, his nose and upper lip had been painted with cream, a childish moustache upon a victims face.

Arthur laughed, taking a finger to Merlin's nose and wiping it clean, before pressing it flirtatiously to his mouth. Merlin smiled, the first real smile Arthur had seen since he'd got him back, and soon he swooped in to kiss the rest of the sugar from his lover's mouth.

* * *

 **Sorry this is so short. I kind of just wanted to quickly introduce the whole concept. Basically, there are plenty of mpreg fanfictions out there, but I have purposely read as many as I could find for this project. And not one of them is biologically, or sociologically accurate. I myself am I biology student and would like to write an mpreg fan fiction in which the frankly scary possibility of a cis male pregnancy occurring is more appropriately considered, in which the male anatomy is briefed accordingly, and in which, obviously, there will be medical consequences.**

 **I do not wish to offend anyone who's written an mpreg fic, I just want to write one that's more realistic.**

 **Not beta'd. Excuse mistakes.**

 **tapeandblades**


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N** So I want to put a few warnings in before this one.

Suggestions of **Rape/Non-Con  
** Illness  
Swearing

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. It's longer than the last one and I spent a while writing it. However it's not been beta'ed so excuse any mistakes.

* * *

 **Foreign Object - Chapter Two**

The two weeks that followed were strung with tension, with the ghost of what had once been Merlin drifting skittishly throughout their apartment. Some days were better than most, and involved a sleepy but calmer Merlin lounging beneath a blanket and immersed in whatever old movie Arthur had slipped into the DVD player. But mostly, the days were awful.

Merlin would refuse breakfast, again complaining of something being mixed up inside of him, and Arthur would insist because _god Merlin you are already too thin_ and then Merlin would begin to cry and Arthur couldn't get him to stop. Some days he would allow Arthur to embrace him with only minor flinches and protests, but others would have him kicking out and locking himself in the downstairs bathroom. The next hour would be spent with Arthur outside the door begging for the sobbing Merlin to come out and please, _please_ talk to him.

And then Merlin would find himself on the couch again, but shaking somewhat and rubbing the raw skin on his wrists absent-mindedly. His eyes would remain distant for the rest of the morning, and he wouldn't look away from some stray corner of the room, not even if Arthur put on 'West Side Story.' He would put a sandwich on the coffee table around lunchtime, and leave the room to do some chore or another, to return and find at most a half of the sandwich eaten. Then Merlin would complain of being too nauseous for dinner, and he would go to bed early, small and deflated beneath the duvet.

And it wasn't just the days either. Most nights Merlin would twist his slight frame into the sheets, breathing fast and shallow, and he would wake screaming and clutching Arthur with shuddering fingers. At first Arthur thought that was heart wrenching, but even worse was when he woke hyperventilating, and he wouldn't meet his partner's gaze, and instead his eyes would be trained on something Arthur couldn't see. Those nights, Arthur would have to sleep on the sofa.

On the good days, Arthur would sometimes bring up the topic of therapy. That turned good days into bad days.

Arthur himself felt helpless. Merlin would rarely speak of that month and four days, and at most the only information he could draw from him was _I just don't feel right._ Until one morning, two weeks and a day in, Merlin shifted where he sat at the table, and blue met blue.

"I was his favourite," he said, and then he put his head in his hands, and he cried.

* * *

A week after Arthur had gone back to work (Morgana had convinced his father that he needed at least two weeks), Arthur found himself waking up alone. He flung himself from the bed, panic ripping through him like a blade, and only just managed to calm himself down before he made it to the hallway. He was overreacting. Merlin could have needed a drink of water, or a painkiller, or…

It was then he spotted the light under the bathroom door, and for half a second, he relaxed – until he realised it was slightly ajar, and there was a noise, a noise that sounded like –

Retching.

The panic was back. He rushed down the hallway, falling haphazardly into the bathroom to find his partner bent over the toilet bowl, forehead lined with sweat, choking streams of watery bile into the water.

Arthur bent down beside him, rubbing his hands up and down his neck and back, whispering soothing words close to his ear. Merlin was too preoccupied to react negatively to the contact, and soon he slumped against Arthur, breathing heavily and closing his eyes.

"Merlin?"

"I just woke up and felt sick. It's probably just a bug."

He laid a hand beneath the fringe of dark hair, frowning and twisting his lips. "You don't have a fever. And it can't have been something you ate…"

He watched as Merlin took his hand into his own, pressing his lips to the calloused fingers. He didn't say anything, only winced when he shifted his position against the blonde's chest.

"Maybe you should see a doctor."

Merlin hardened his jaw. "I'm fine, Arthur. I feel better already."

Arthur took the day off work anyway. And Merlin was right – he was fine, even managed a whole sandwich, and decided he wanted to play chess, whether to appease Arthur's anxiety or because today was a good day, he didn't know. But Merlin smiled at him, and Arthur smiled right back, and not once did Merlin mention that anything didn't feel right.

But it happened again. Not the next morning, but the morning after. And the evening after that. And each time Merlin would complain of a twinge in his abdomen, but he would insist he was fine – until a week later, he wasn't.

They were watching the news with matching mugs of tea, when Merlin swallowed, blinked, and then swallowed again. Arthur slurped a mouthful of tea before turning to ask for the remote when he noticed that Merlin was deathly pale, the circles under his eyes stark against his sharp and slanted cheekbones. Arthur put his tea down, placing a hand on Merlin's arm, when he swallowed for a third time, pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, and stumbled quickly to his feet to run to the bathroom.

He barely made it before he vomited noisily into the toilet, back arched and knuckles white against the porcelain seat. Arthur was right behind him, rubbing circles into his back and fretting nervously, when on the third retch Merlin's knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, almost missing the bowl entirely. Arthur held him up, massaging soothing circles into his stomach and muttering words of comfort, voice too high-pitched and panicked for his liking, and his lover cried out, choking and spitting bile in the basin. Tear tracks carved a pathway down his face as bile became nothing, and he was dry retching, hands too weak to grasp the edges of the toilet, and he couldn't stop, he _couldn't,_ the waves just kept coming and coming and the pain was _unbearable_ –

"It's okay love, it's okay," Arthur soothed as he began to cry, reaching for his phone in his back pocket. He dialled for an ambulance, pressing frantic kisses to his partner's neck as he struggled to breath. "I'm getting someone, they'll make it go away, I promise –"

The words _I don't feel right_ echoed painfully in his head as the woman at his ear asked for his name and address, and _what is the problem sir_ , and _oh god please my boyfriend won't stop throwing up_ –

And then it stopped. And the line went dead as Arthur shuddered a breath, throwing his phone to the side and catching Merlin as he fell sideways, sideways and shivering into his arms. Arthur held him as he trembled and moaned; brushing his fingers lightly over his face and watching his eyelids flutter feverishly. His heart thudded painfully in his chest with worry as the helplessness washed over him _again_ and _again_ – the eight minutes that followed were agony. At some point Arthur lifted the skin from Merlin's wrist and watched it sink slowly back, and then he panicked about the dehydration, because what _wasn't_ there to panic about? And then the doorbell rang and Arthur left Merlin propped on the softest towel he could find while he quickly buzzed them in, and the paramedics found Arthur in the bathroom, cradling his boyfriend tightly and crying loud enough for God to hear.

* * *

"Merlin Emrys?"

Arthur looked up from his chair in the waiting room, bones creaking as he unfolded from his crouched position – unable to speak, he simply half-raised a hand, swallowing thickly with nervousness. The doctor nodded at him shortly, and gestured for him to follow, and soon they found themselves in a smaller office.

"What is your relation to Mr Emrys?"

"I'm his partner – like boyfriend partner, not –"

The doctor hummed, making a note on his pad. He clasped his hands together over the paper, observing Arthur over his low-lying spectacles. "Mr…?"

"Pendragon." Arthur fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously, only now noticing a smudge of vomit on his sleeve. "Is he alright?"

"Can you describe to me exactly what happened this afternoon, Mr Pendragon?"

"Um…" Arthur carded a hand through his hair, chewing on his lip. "We were sitting watching telly. Drinking tea, and – well, Merlin was really pale and I was about to ask him what was wrong when he ran to the bathroom and –" Arthur resorted once more to chewing his lip, then his fingers, before continuing. "He started throwing up. Really, um, really violently. And he was crying because I think he was in pain, but maybe because it wasn't stopping, I don't know, it wouldn't stop, it went on and on until there was nothing left –"

"Take a breath, Mr Pendragon." Arthur did, hands shaking. "Has this happened before?"

Arthur stared. "Well, well yes. But not like this. Never this long."

"For how long has this been happening?"

"About a week." He reconsidered. "Just over a week."

"And why have you never sought out help before?"

Arthur felt guilt churn inside of him, and he could barely answer above a whisper. "He always said he felt fine afterwards. And he always insisted we stay in the house. And I let him, because…"

"He was one of the victims of the male kidnappings." Arthur's head snapped up, eyes wide. "It's in his file. Now, Mr Pendragon, what I am about to tell you will sound strange. Before I begin, I would like to inform you that I will try and keep this from the police as long as I can to allow you and your partner some discretion. This will, in turn, work the same for the papers."

"The papers?" he squeaked.

The doctor nodded, pulling a black sheet from a file. "Upon his admission we immediately attached an IV to Mr Emrys to combat his severe dehydration. In this IV we also included anti-emetics as a precaution. Then we performed an ultrasound." He pushed the black sheet forward on the table. "Almost immediately we discovered a foreign object residing within your partner's abdominal cavity." He pointed to a light mass in Merlin's lower right quadrant. "At first we thought it a mass pressing on his intestines, causing the vomiting. Another doctor suggested an X-ray in order to obtain clearer images." He pulled another dark slide from the file. "Here is the X-ray. Fortunately one of the doctors on hand had once had training as an obstetrician. If she hadn't, we would have proceeded to perform a biopsy – instead, we performed _all_ routine blood tests."

"Wouldn't something have shown up four weeks ago though?" Arthur, not familiar with as much medical jargon as Merlin, was confused. He didn't know quite where this doctor was going. "They did all the routine blood tests then."

"Not all of them." He pulled out several sheets of paper with lines and marks across them. "There is one routine blood test we perform on females that we do not perform on males." Arthur frowned. "It's a pregnancy test."

 _… What?_

"It appears that the kidnapper was poking and prodding rather invasively with his victims. Judging by the size of the foetus, it was… 'conceived' six weeks ago."

"Wait," Arthur said, voice weak, "pregnancy? Foetus? _Conceived_? Is this some kind of joke?"

"I'm afraid not. We assume a zygote was implanted inside of him and has successfully taken hold. Of course, we cannot allow this pregnancy to continue. It will have to be removed at the earliest opportunity."

Arthur found himself asking a very odd question. "Why?"

The doctor sighed. "The male anatomy was not built to harbour children, Mr Pendragon. It does not have the organs, or the space. This evening you only scratched the surface of what complications can occur. Merlin will more than likely die, if the foetus does not miscarry before then – and if it miscarries, there is no exit point, which risks internal bleeding and infection. This foetus was never meant to be carried full term."

Arthur nodded; gaze distant as he paled several shades. All at once, he realised several things.

Merlin had been experimented on by some sadistic fuck.

Merlin could die.

And Merlin could die because Merlin was _pregnant_.

Arthur still wasn't sure if he was being lied to, and really there was a camera in that pot plant and Merlin would come out of the closet grinning that stupid grin of his and laughing heartily at Arthur. But then several silent seconds passed, and then a minute, and he could hear the clock ticking ominously behind him as the doctor averted his gaze, giving him time to digest this information.

Another minute passed before it clicked. Yes, Merlin was pregnant, but it wasn't natural, and it wouldn't be for long. All Arthur had to concentrate on now was Merlin's imminent surgery, recovery, and mental state. Gritting his teeth, he faced the doctor before him.

"Your name, doctor?"

He blinked. "Dr North. But I shan't be remaining on this case. I'll be referring you to a specialist surgeon by the name of Dr Gaius Humphrey. He has ensured your privacy and is already discussing with his team, which is small and carefully selected."

"Thank you, Dr North." Arthur nodded, as if to reassure himself. "Can I see him?"

"He is waiting." He frowned then, closing the file. "We thought it best to break the news with you present."

"Okay," Arthur said weakly, rising from the chair. "Okay."

* * *

When Arthur first saw Merlin, he wanted to cry. The man who had been vibrant only two months ago had sunk into the stale white sheets, skin hardly far from adopting a similar washed out pallor. A nasal cannula threaded its way across his face, and his eyelids hung heavy as bruises over glassy, half-open eyes. An IV dripped monotonously into a tube leading to Merlin's thin wrist, skin translucent over the virescent veins streaking up to his elbow. Arthur pressed a hand to his mouth as his partner shifted weakly, eyes widening every so slightly at the sight of the blonde at the foot of his bed.

"Arthur?" he croaked, a single tear trailing down his cheek. "Arthur."

He moved to sit beside Merlin, hand immediately reaching to grasp the paler man's hand. "How are you feeling?"

Merlin shifted again, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Sick to my stomach. And – and my throat hurts." Arthur tightened his hold on Merlin's fingers when he recalled the choking noises Merlin had made into the toilet. "Can you tell me what's going on? Nobody's telling me anything, and, well it's – I'm scared."

"Well –"

Arthur looked to the door as an older man with long white hair entered the room, clutching a clipboard to his chest. He smiled kindly at them both before slowly pulling a chair up.

"I apologise for the wait, blame my old creaky bones." He chuckled, easing himself into the seat. "I'm Dr Humphrey, but you can call me Gaius. I'll be in charge of your case from now on."

Merlin struggled to sit up, managing to prop himself on one elbow before Arthur rushed to prop the pillows up behind him. "Sorry, I don't want to s-sound rude, b-but what –" he cleared his throat, glancing briefly at Arthur, "– what is my case, exactly?"

Gaius looked to Arthur knowingly, clasping his hands on his lap. "I am told by Dr North that you expressed wishes of telling him yourself?"

"Well –" Arthur swallowed, picking at a loose thread on the hospital sheets. "I'll tell him, but you explain it afterwards. Merlin's good with all that medical… stuff."

"Nurse in training," his partner supplied from the bed, smiling weakly. "Mind's a bit fuzzy, though." Arthur squeezed his hand, earning himself an expectant look. "… Arthur?"

The blonde sighed, closing his eyes. "It's going to sound odd Merlin, but… you'll be okay." He drew a hand over his mouth, feeling the shadow of stubble beginning to grow there. "You have to keep that in mind. That you'll be okay."

"What's going on?"

"Love…" He bit his lip. "Forgive me for not acting sooner. You were right, and I should have listened. The… The man who took you, he was experimenting. Somehow, he put something inside you, right here." Arthur placed a hand over Merlin's abdomen, and the man flinched, wide-eyed. "He wanted to see if a male could carry a… child."

"A… _what?_ "

"I'm sorry, I'm not explaining this well." Merlin frowned, eyes still glistening with fear and confusion. "You're… technically… pregnant."

Merlin blinked. Arthur looked to Gaius.

The doctor stood and addressed them both, coming to settle at the end of the bed. "Mr Emrys, I'm afraid your kidnapper implanted a zygote inside you abdominal cavity. Strangely, it took hold and its cells began to multiply. For the past six weeks a foetus has been growing near your small and large intestine, and this has created a small imbalance within your internal organs." Gaius smiled. "Not to worry, we can remove it before it causes any serious damage."

Merlin's hand hovered lightly over the blankets, his other clenching and unclenching anxiously. "Is it just me?" he whispered.

"One of the first things we did was call the other families to ask of any complaints of pain, nausea, etc. Other than psychological trauma, none have experienced anything of the sort." Merlin nodded, eyes still not meeting Arthur's. "It appears yours was the only successful implantation."

"I was his favourite," he breathed, and Arthur closed his eyes.

"I understand that this is distressing news. But as soon as you're ready we can discuss the surgery." Merlin's head snapped up sharply, startling Arthur. "We would like to perform at soon as possible."

"No."

Arthur frowned, moving to focus properly on Merlin. He was shocked by the ferocity burning in his partner's hard, blue eyes. "Merlin?"

"I'm not having surgery."

" _What?_ "

Gaius held up a hand. "Look, I understand. It's normal to be nervous about –"

"I had my appendix taken out when I was nine." He sat up further, jaw set. "Had to have surgery on my arm only a few years ago when I broke my arm falling down the stairs." Arthur remembered – it was at university, and Arthur, used to Merlin's perpetual clumsiness, was not surprised when he tripped over his own feet and tumbled dramatically down the stairs. The disfigured arm had been cause for concern, though.

"Mr Emrys, I'm not sure I understand –"

"I'm not scared of the surgery." He looked down at the sheet; dark lashes fanning over his pale face. "I want to keep it."

Time slowed for a moment, simply with Arthur's own incredulity, and suddenly, Merlin was looking directly at him. "Merlin," he croaked, retracting his hand from his partner's grip, "what…?"

"It's a baby, Arthur," and the blonde thought this was no time for Merlin's _all life is sacred_ bullshit – "I can't, just, not –"

"It's not like it's ours," Arthur hissed, starting to lose his temper. "Its – Its some sadistic fuck's experiment! We don't even know what – who –"

"The baby's mine."

A heavy weight dropped into Arthur's stomach. "You – You can't know that."

"Yes, I can." The raven looked sadly at his lover, lips pulling up into a watery grimace. "It's got to be mine. I mean, I don't know about the female gamete, but there can't be any other reason for –"

"For _what_."

Merlin turned his gaze down, chin quivering. "F-For him… touching me."

There was a moment of silence in which the hollow dripping of the tap on metal and the monotonous beeping of the machines became an empty, miserable melody. Then Arthur stumbled from the chair and rushed to the sink, retching harshly into the basin.

"Arthur? Arthur!"

He spat bile and tea into the sink, bracing his hands on the metal rim. Behind him, Merlin was calling him, but he couldn't hear much over the ringing in his ears. Merlin… _His_ Merlin was sexually abused, vandalised, non-consensually _impregnated,_ and he wanted to keep this, this _thing?_ He wanted to keep the product of all his pain and misery?

No. _No._ He wouldn't allow it. He _couldn't_ allow Merlin to sacrifice himself for this… _foreign object_.

Arthur took a shaky breath, straightening stiffly and gritting his teeth. He could still hear his partner tentatively saying his name, now with tears working their way into his voice. Arthur whirled around; gaze fixed, and didn't allow himself to be thrown by Merlin's vulnerable, _wrong_ expression.

"You are not," he spat, throwing a hand out violently, "keeping that _fucking leech._ "


	3. Chapter Three

**Foreign Object - Chapter Three**

 **A/N Sorry it's been such a long time since my last update. Between university applications and my fair share of personal issues (oh the woes of the chronically ill) I have been all over the place. Also I wrote this in the last two hours and it hasn't been edited yet. I apologise.**

 **On the bright side, I have three university offers! Now, only to wait for news from Durham and Oxford...**

 **Happy reading!**

* * *

Arthur didn't speak directly to Merlin for three days. He held discussion with doctor's and nurses at the foot of his bed; often ignoring Merlin's weak and pained protests to Arthur's cold and terse commands. If Merlin was to ask something of Arthur, the blonde would respond by sharing his views with the nearest personnel, or he would ring Morgana, and loudly exclaim his grievances on the phone, passively answering the younger man's question while simultaneously stunning him into silence. But of course, it was all futile. Because no matter how hard Arthur tried to make Merlin's decisions by proxy, Merlin was still determined of somewhat sound mind, and was allowed to counteract any of Arthur's demands.

It was on the third day, when Arthur was angrily trying to enforce a surgery upon Merlin with another doctor, that the raven-haired boy snapped. He'd grown paler over the last few days, and thinner – his breath came in short sharp gasps as he became riled up at Arthur's unjust decisions. The nurse beside the doctor kept throwing her gaze worriedly at Merlin, his heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and his O2 becoming lower, and it was when he struggled painfully up onto his elbows that the nurse began to intervene.

"The patient," she started, but before she could finish, he drew attention to himself.

"I'm not having a _fucking surgery_ ," he panted through gritted teeth, hands clutching at the off-white bed sheets. "Stop trying to arrange one on my behalf!"

Arthur stared for a minute, and then scoffed. "I don't remember asking for you opinion, _Merlin,_ " he spat venomously, and Merlin flinched, and went quiet.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered, and the blonde's jaw slackened. "I'm not – I'm not doing this to hurt you –"

"Well guess what?" Arthur retorted, flinging his hands upwards. "You may not be _trying_ to hurt me, but you fucking are. You're picking this, this _thing_ , over me?"

"It's not a _thing_ Arthur, it's a –"

" _Don't you dare say it._ "

Merlin moaned softly, closing his eyes. "Arthur, please, I just can't – I won't kill a – a –" the nurse rushed forward as Merlin slumped back onto the pillows, breathing quickly and groaning on each exhale. Arthur's eyes widened, a hand hanging motionless in the air, and took a several strides towards the edge of the cot. "Merlin? W-Where does it hurt, love?"

"M-My stomach…"

The doctor looked up sharply at Arthur, frowning. "Mr Pendragon, perhaps you should leave."

" _Leave?_ "

"I think that would be best." Arthur stood slowly, mouth slightly ajar. He had a question poised on his lips, but the longhaired doctor laid a gentle hand just beneath his shoulder blades and guided him towards the door before he could utter a word. Before he knew it, the door was shut behind him, with a promise of an update soon thereafter left hanging in the air.

Arthur anxiously ran a hand through his tangled hair, turning in circles in the corridor. Merlin was hurting, and he was _alone_ – Arthur should be there, holding his hand, but instead he was out here, doctor's orders. He'd never felt so hopeless in his life. He'd tried so hard over the last few days to force his opinion onto the medical team, to persuade them to save Merlin's life; whilst when he wasn't looking, his partner was slipping away, with no one there to keep him afloat.

He'd sworn that he's never hurt Merlin, no matter the circumstances. So what was he _doing?_

* * *

The blonde spent the next few hours in the hospital café, staring solemnly into the watered down tea he'd ordered – a pathetic attempt at comforting himself. _Maybe if they let the tea steep…_

"Mr Pendragon?"

Arthur looked up so fast he could've sworn he broke his neck, and when he saw Gaius, he managed to send the tea spraying across the worn metal table. He stood motionless, watching it spread like a virus over the surface. "Why is everything in a hospital made from steel?" he asked.

Gaius chuckled. "Cheap alloy," he supplied, leaving the blonde even more confused. "Would you come with me?"

They wandered through the corridors, and Arthur wondered if they were actually going anywhere specific. They'd circled round and stopped in so many stairwells that he considered questioning the old doctor's sanity. But then Gaius turned around, and smiled.

"Don't look so worried," he said, placing a hand on Arthur's arm. "Merlin is alright. We believe the pain was probably caused by stress, and so now he is simply resting. Perhaps be a little gentler with him from now on?"

Arthur paled. _Stress?_ He'd be ignoring Merlin, treating him as if he had no valid opinion to offer… because he'd been angry. But he'd hurt Merlin. And there was no excuse for that. He swallowed thickly. "It was my fault."

"Don't be an idiot," Gaius replied, rubbing Arthur's arm sympathetically. "If Merlin wasn't in his current condition in the first place we wouldn't be here. He's just… more fragile now, Mr Pendragon."

"Arthur."

"Sorry?"

"Call me Arthur," he said quietly, looking the old man in the eye. Gaius' eyes crinkled, his mouth curving upwards amusedly. "I need to be careful, don't I." It wasn't a question.

"We'll try and keep him as pain-free as possible, and we'll treat his symptoms as they arise, but his condition is unstable. If he is to make it full-term, we need to be on our toes."

And for the first time, Arthur didn't argue.

* * *

Merlin felt inexplicably heavy, his eyelids sinking into the hollows of his skull uncomfortably, until it felt almost impossible to shift the weight. He moved ever so slightly, scrunching up his face in discomfort. There was a pressure on his wrist, and then a familiar voice.

"Merlin?"

The raven-haired boy pried his eyes open, the world coming into a technicolour blur around him. He blinked twice, gaze focusing on the concerned young man next to him.

Arthur was here.

His mouth went dry, and he cleared his throat painfully. The blonde reached over him and brought a straw between his lips, instructing him to drink. Merlin did.

"What – What are you doing here?"

"Me?" Arthur laughed, placing the cup on the bedside table. "I'm here to look after you, cabbage-head."

Merlin's lip trembled, and _for once_ he wished he wouldn't be so pathetic. "Really?" he whispered, and the blonde snickered again. Merlin thought he'd never heard something so beautiful.

"Arthur," he said softly, fingers curling to fasten themselves to his lovers. "I want to go home."

"I know," the older replied.

"Can we?"

Arthur sighed. "I'll speak to Gaius. It seems unlikely…"

A quiet whimper came from the bed, and Arthur stared into Merlin's pleading gaze. "I've ruined everything, haven't I?"

Arthur shushed him as he brought a hand to his mouth, shaking ever so slightly. "No, no Merlin. I'm so sorry. You didn't – you didn't deserve my anger. I'm just… I'm so worried. You know that don't you? I'm so… scared, is probably a better word. And I didn't want to accept what you wanted, because I couldn't accept the chance that I might – I could – lose you. I can't lose you." Arthur bit down hard on his bottom lip; attempting to warm his partner's cold hand between his two warm ones. "I'm so, so sorry. I promised I would never hurt you, and I… I did."

The younger man choked a sob into his hand whilst the older kissed his fingers and whispered in a soothing tone, eyes closed against the waves of emotional agony. "N-No, it was my fault. I didn't think ab-bout your feelings, a-and I'm sorry. P-Please forgive me."

Arthur leans over the bed, clutching Merlin's hand to his chest. "Of course, my love. Of course." He pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Merlin's mouth, his own tears mingling with his partner's. "I haven't been here for you, but I swear now – whatever happens – I'll be right here." Their mouths connect for longer, and Arthur sighs onto Merlin's skin before breaking away. "Unless you die on me. And then I'll never forgive you, you bastard."

Merlin laughed, and they breathed the same oxygen once more.

* * *

After many heavy discussions with Merlin's private medical team, and one or two meetings with slightly nervous police officers, Gaius agreed to let Merlin return home under strict medical supervision. A personal nurse would move into their spare room with sufficient medical supplies and the correct contact information for Gaius' team, and a private ambulance would be used should Merlin need to be taken to the emergency room. However, the general consensus was that Merlin would be cared for at home for as long as possible, being a recent kidnapping victim and at risk of breach in confidentiality within public walls. Uther, after hearing an obscure but somewhat accurate story about Merlin's condition, took sympathy on Arthur (after all, he'd lost Ygraine to childbirth), and granted him paid leave for the duration of Merlin's pregnancy. Morgana offered her assistance at any hour of the day, should Arthur need to run errands or if Merlin needed another friendly face, and soon Arthur was carrying Merlin gingerly up the stairs to their, his dark head cradled against Arthur's collar bone.

Their flat felt ghostly, traces of emptiness where there should be life – Merlin's poinsettia had wilted on the shelf – and with a sickening jolt, Arthur realised he hadn't been home to clean up the mess from that dreadful night. Swallowing thickly, the blonde hurried past the bathroom at breakneck speed and set his lover gently on the bed, pulling a blue wool blanket up over Merlin's shoulders and slapping a quick kiss on his forehead. "Bed rest," he said tenderly, shifting a few things around on the duvet before moving to leave the room. "I'll be back with some tea," he promised. "And then I've just got to do some tidying up."

Arthur couldn't get the image of Merlin's tiny, slender form curled up against the sheets out of his head as he monotonously stirred semi-skimmed milk into a mug, remembering, only just, the two sugars and… the teabag. Arthur cursed, grimacing at the weak-looking concoction he's created. "It just won't do," he muttered, pouring it away and starting again.

Once he'd delivered the tea, heaved their small TV into their bedroom, set up the DVD player and slid an old university video into the slot, he started on the bathroom, a bucket full of watered down bleach swinging sadly from his hand as he waited outside the door. From here, he could already smell the stench of vomit; he could only imagine what waited for him inside of the room.

It took two attempts, the first ending with him gagging and leaning against a wall in the corridor, but eventually Arthur made far enough into the room to begin scrubbing the tiles violently with every cleaning product he could find. He himself had to run to retch in the bathtub once or twice, but he regained his composure before anything much could come up. An hour of hell later, and the bathroom was clean – but Arthur could still smell it. The insides of his nose were stained with bile.

The nurse arrived just as Arthur was putting his supplies in the black bin in front of their small block of flats. She drove a rusty blue Volvo, and looked rather frazzled as she stumbled out of the front seat. "'Scuse me!" she shouted over at him, hair flyaway in the brisk British wind. "Does a Merlin Emrys live here?"

Arthur snapped off his yellow cleaning gloves and dropped them quickly into the bin bag. "Yeah," he said, wandering over to her. "I'm Arthur, Merlin's partner." He held out a hand and then thought better of it. "Are you the nurse they sent?"

She gasped, spluttered, and then flashed him a wide smile as she nodded. "Yes sir! I'm Guinevere, but you can call me Gwen. That is, if you want – you don't have to –"

"Nice to meet you, Gwen." He returned her contagious grin, gesturing at the door to his right. "Did you want to come and get settled in?"

"Oh yes!" She disappeared in a whirl of warm colours to return from the depths of her boot with a worn floral suitcase. "Would you – I mean – could you take this for me? I should really start unloading the supplies –"

Arthur took the suitcase and ended her spiel. "What kind of supplies?"

Gwen sighed, tapping a finger against the edge of her vehicle. "Well, we have a couple oxygen tanks and an O2 machine, a simple old manual blood pressure monitor, baby-friendly pain medications, and – oh!" Guinevere yanked out a white plastic device with various coloured buttons and wired extensions; she turned her head to the side and winked. "A portable ultrasound machine! Can't forget that." She frowned. "I might have to make two trips…"

"Don't be silly," Arthur commented, heaving her suitcase over his shoulder and pulling out an oxygen tank. "Bring as much as you can up, and I'll do the rest. Your time will be better spent getting to know Merlin."

The blonde learnt on their trip up the staircase that Gwen had studied nursing at university before going onto to train with an obstetrician, and then, three years later, being hired in Gaius' department. "I knew something strange was going on with one of the patients," she stated, bumping the second oxygen tank against the wall. "Cos' you know, all the whispering. And I'm observant, I am." She beamed, a stray curl falling across her face. "'S why Gaius likes me."

Arthur didn't blame him – he was very pleased with the old man's choice of nurse.

Once Merlin and Gwen had officially met, Arthur made the trek back downstairs to retrieve the rest of the medical supplies. He felt disquieted even a metre from Merlin, and so every tap against a step was another palpitation that skittered across his chest – Merlin, so full of life you could feel his energy from a million moons away, had become a wraithlike wail in the air that the blonde struggled to grasp even when right next to him. And that scared Arthur, more than anything.

Except.

When he finally did reach his destination, and reached obliviously into the shadows of the boot, he recognised the snaking wires residing in one of the boxes. He'd seen those paddles on almost every medical drama ever aired. He didn't register at first, the white coils and metal slabs, but a second past and he knew –

Gaius had packed Gwen a defibrillator.

And that was what really scared Arthur most.


End file.
